Bump in the Night
by Loopstagirl
Summary: John is hearing noises he can't explain. Noises that are making him believe in the impossible.


_Disclaimer: I own nothing, all rights belong to their respective owners._

 _See, this is what happens when you start both a Masters course and a new job - time for anything goes straight out of the window. But this little one-shot forced its way through and I thought today was a good a day as any to get it posted!_

* * *

John stared at the essay in front of him, the words blurring together. He rubbed his eyes. He knew he shouldn't be working this late, but he couldn't sleep. Being put forward a year in two classes was great, but John felt like he had double the amount of work as his friends and there weren't enough hours in the day.

Hearing a noise, he froze. He dropped his hand from his eyes and let it hover over the light switch, ready to plunge the room into darkness if Scott came to see why he was still up. It wasn't like his father would notice.

But the footsteps only went to the bathroom and back and John sighed. He looked down at his essay again, but still didn't understand what he was reading. He had started this module a year ago, then dropped it after the accident. One of his favourite teachers had persuaded him to take it back up again and, determined to prove himself, John had done so.

He couldn't make sense of it. Sentence structures and hidden meanings meant nothing to him anymore. John knew why. He had been working on this module with his mother. She had explained everything to him, making him read between the lines and pick up on the things that weren't said. Without her guidance, without her patiently going through it with him until he understood, he had no idea.

John shoved the papers off the desk, watching them flutter to the floor in grim amusement.

That was what he thought of that!

But then he lent back in his chair, closing his eyes and trying to control himself. Scott needed him to hold it together, not lose it over an English essay that, technically speaking, he didn't have to do. His grades didn't depend on it, but his pride did. His mom had spent hours going through this with him, the least he could do was get a good mark.

But not tonight. Admitting defeat, John switched off the light and stumbled across the room in the dark. Crashing face first onto the bed, he awkwardly dragged the covers over him and tried to sleep.

To start with, his mind wouldn't switch off, trapped in circles with thoughts of both his essay and his mom. Eventually though, the thoughts quietened and his body relaxed, his eyes drifting shut…

…Only to jerk awake again, his heart thudding and his pulse racing. He had heard something.

Rolling over, John stared at the ceiling, holding his breath. There it was again! A strange creaking sound followed by a soft thud, almost a bang. When it sounded for the third time, John sprung out of bed, tense and ready. If it happened again, he was going to wake up Scott…

But the house fell silent. He couldn't even hear the wind outside, let alone anything inside.

Trying to convince himself he had imagined it and it was his tired mind playing tricks on him, John slid back under the covers and shut his eyes. This time, sleep claimed him.

* * *

"You look exhausted."

John glanced up from where he had been staring into his cereal bowl to find his older brother was watching him closely. John shrugged.

"Didn't get much sleep. Something was keeping me up."

"Were you working through the night again?" Scott sounded so much like their father that John flushed but was saved from answering by Alan demanding more juice. As Scott complied, John picked up his empty bowl and made his escape. At least once they were at school, he could avoid his brother.

He _had_ been intending to tell Scott about the noise. But that would mean admitting why he had been awake in the first place and John was in no mood for a lecture. Not when he knew he was going to have to face the essay again that evening.

He had one foot on the stairs before Scott appeared in the kitchen doorway, looking as exhausted as John felt.

"Get Virgil up, would you?" He muttered quietly and John nodded. He knew that tone of voice. Scott hadn't let it go and John knew to lay low for a few days before Alan had a dramatic emergency that only Scott could handle and he would forget about John.

After tipping Virgil out of bed, John escaped to his own room for a few moments peace and quiet before the day began in earnest. Bad dreams had awoken him early and he had heard his father leave. His dad used to look in on them before going to work. Not anymore.

Sighing, John dropped to his knees and began gathering up his scattered notes, ignoring the way his hands shook. He knew he had to be strong for Scott and the little ones, but… He really missed his mom. Blinking back tears, John violently jumped as something above his head gave a bang.

Standing slowly, his gaze fixed on the ceiling, John waited, anticipating making his heart thud uncomfortably hard. There it was again! A strange creak, followed by a thud. It sounded like someone letting out a sigh, not dissimilar to the one he himself had just given.

He didn't know how long he stood there, waiting. If the noise came again, it meant he wasn't mad. If it didn't, it meant he had no reason to feel uneasy, afraid even. John wasn't sure which outcome he wished for.

"John!" Scott's shout from downstairs came before any mysterious noise. "We need to go! Come on!"

Stuffing his notes in his bag, John slammed his bedroom door shut and hurtled down the stairs. He had enough problems to deal with – absent fathers and stressed brothers mainly – to bother with a noise he couldn't be completely sure wasn't in his own mind.

"You alright?" Virgil muttered as they piled out the front door. John gave his brother a grin.

"Fine."

Virgil didn't look as if he believed him. But Scott was already herding them down the road and Virgil didn't get the chance to press. John deliberately put Gordon between them, not wanting Virgil to ask, but no one seemed to notice.

He breathed easier being out of the house.

* * *

John bit his lip as he contemplated the math equation in front of him. He could do this; he knew he could. But his brain felt fuzzy through lack of sleep and he was on edge, listening out for noises that he couldn't explain.

The rest of the house was the same chaos it always was after school as Scott tried to take control of their younger siblings. John thought he should help, but his brother had told him to just get on with his homework and John hadn't argued. He felt better figuring out a math problem – something he _could_ figure out – than dealing with the younger ones. Virgil had slunk off as soon as they had got home, but Gordon was hyper and Alan was whining.

Forcing himself to concentrate, John returned to the task at hand. He was starting to wonder if he had imagined the events of the evening before. He _had_ been tired, after all.

Slowly, John forgot about strange noises and focused on his studies. He paused to stretch as he switched subjects, yawning as he did so. He knew having a good night sleep would make everything so much easier and he vowed to go to bed at a decent time tonight. It wasn't fair to make Scott worry about him as well, but John knew no words would persuade his brother that he was fine.

He lent back in his chair, listening as Scott and Gordon argued over how long he was allowed to stay in the bath for. Gordon's voice was muffled and John knew his brother had locked himself in the bathroom again.

Shaking his head fondly, John returned to his homework.

 _Bang!_

His pen slipped from his hand and John jolted violently. His heart hammering hard, he stared around his room. It was the same sound as the night before, a low whining sound followed by a thud. He pushed back his chair, staring around the room. He understood the others not hearing it the previous night – he had been the only one awake – but that had been loud. Unless, of course, it could only be heard from his room.

Unsettled, John searched his room. There was nothing that could make that sort of sound, not on its own accord, anyway. He would have suspected Gordon, only he could hear his brother still fighting with Scott.

The creak-thud came again. John sat down on his bed and realised his hands were trembling. He clasped them between his knees. There was a rational explanation, there had to be. He believed in science, believed there was a reason for everything.

 _Except his mother's death._

There was no reason for that, no logic behind her dying. Gritting his teeth, John refused to cry. He was no going to let some strange noise undermine the defences he had been steadily building around his emotions over the last few months.

He took a few deep breaths, realising the rest of the house had fallen quiet as well. Gordon had given in and the arguing had stopped.

But the peace didn't last as the thud came again.

Unable to stop himself, John jumped to his feet. Yanking open his bedroom door, he stormed past Gordon walking around with a towel on his head and knocked on Scott's door. The voice that bid him to enter sounded far too old to be his fifteen-year-old brother, yet it was Scott sitting at his desk trying to do his own homework when John walked in.

"What's up?" Scott asked casually, glancing up. Then his eyes narrowed and he got to his feet.

"John?" His tone was serious this time and John knew his unease at the whole situation was apparent in his expression. "What is it? You're shaking."

"Have you been hearing anything?" John asked, aiming for nonchalance and missing the mark entirely. Scott's eyebrows raised.

"You mean other than Gordon being a whiny brat?"

John looked at him and Scott shrugged. "Kid's been a nightmare tonight. That's not what you mean though, is it?"

"Have you heard anything you can't explain?"

Scott motioned to the bed and John sat down. His brother perched next to him and John could feel the worry radiating off him.

"What do you mean?" Scott's tone was cautious and John knew his brother sensed that he was on the edge of breaking down.

Despite knowing Scott would be angry that he had stayed up last night, John told him in a few short sentences what he had been hearing. Scott's expression grew more concerned by the minute.

"Do you think I'm mad?" John said in a whisper, his voice trembling as badly as his hands had been.

"No." Scott stood up. "We're going to your room."

The two boys moved quickly, passing Virgil heading downstairs as they did so. John knew his brother was intending to raid the kitchen. By the look on Scott's face, he knew it too.

John felt a fool, standing in the middle of his room waiting for a noise he couldn't explain. But whatever it was didn't leave them waiting for long. Just as they heard Virgil coming back upstairs, there came the now-familiar creak-thud that John was getting used to.

Scott jumped, his face draining of colour and John knew he hoped that John had been hearing things.

"Scott?" John whispered. The idea went against everything he had ever believed in. But considering what had been taken from them, John wondered if he should start believing in the impossible.

"Yeah?"

"Do you believe in ghosts?"

Right on cue, there came another creak-thud and John swallowed hard even as Scott looked at him with wide eyes.

This time, his brother had no answer.

* * *

"Are you sure we should be doing this?" John whispered, his flashlight illuminating Scott's back. His brother turned, flashing his own torch in John's direction.

"The noise definitely came from your ceiling," Scott whispered back, "so we're finding out what is up here."

Wishing he had his brother's confidence, John nodded. Scott had refused to give credence to John's theory about ghosts and John took comfort in it. If Scott didn't believe in the supernatural, then he wouldn't either. There would be a rational explanation for all of this. John just wished he knew what it was.

"I can't see anything," John said, swinging his light around. The attic was full of all sorts of things – leftovers from their childhood that their parents hadn't been able to part with. His light fell on the pile of boxes by the hatch and John quickly looked away again. He had forgotten about most of the things up here. He refused to forget about his mother's belongings that had been tidied away as well.

Scott didn't answer and John knew that was because his brother hadn't found anything either. He knew Scott though and knew they wouldn't be heading downstairs again until Scott had found a way to put John's mind at ease. If it was ghosts though, John was fully aware that even his big brother could do nothing about it.

They continued their search. John could hear Scott getting more frantic each moment that passed and nothing was revealed as being the cause of the noise. John didn't know what they were looking for – a mouse perhaps? But he eventually sat down on an upturned box.

"There's nothing here, Scott."

"There has to be!"

"Scott." John ran a hand over his eyes, exhausted. He blamed the dust for the prickling sensation in the corner of his eyes and willed himself not to cry. His tone got through to his brother though and Scott moved over.

"I'm sorry, Johnny."

John shrugged. "Every time I hear it," he whispered, "it's when I've been thinking about Mom."

Scott crouched in front of him, his expression concerned. "She is still with us, John," he said carefully. "You know I believe that. She'll always be with us."

Scott glanced away, clearly trying to find the right words. "But you know it can't be her."

"Why not?" John argued. "No one has ever proved that ghosts don't exist."

"Because if it was her, do you really think she would scare you like this?"

All of John's arguments died in his throat. He stared at Scott, and this time, wasn't fast enough to stop a tear rolling down his cheek. He knew it wasn't ghosts, knew they didn't exist…but part of him had wanted to believe.

 _Creak-thud!_

Both boys jumped, staring around wildly. John stood up, swinging his light around.

"It came from over there."

No sooner had they taken a step in that direction, the noise came from behind them. When they spun around, it moved again.

"Let's get out of here!" There was unease in Scott's voice and John quickly made for the hatch. He breathed easier when they were safely on the landing and Scott was putting the ladder away, the hatch safely sealed.

"I'll talk to Dad," Scott muttered, shifting his weight. John grimaced. They both knew catching their father in a conversing mood was easier said than done these days. But he nodded as there was nothing else he could do.

"You can stay in my room tonight if you want."

"Why?" Virgil came out of the bathroom, his hair dripping wet as he stared between his big brothers. As Scott started to explain, John stared at Virgil. Then he started to laugh.

"What is it?" Scott asked, sounding more concerned now than he had done in the attic. John shook his head, unable to believe he could be so stupid.

"You went to the loo," John said, still laughing. Scott looked alarmed, glancing at Virgil for clarification, but their younger brother looked just as astonished.

" _What?"_

"The first time I heard the noise, I heard you go to the bathroom," John explained. "Then you were battling Gordon in the bath. Virgil went downstairs for a drink when you heard it."

"And now," Virgil caught on to John's theory, "I've just had a shower."

"It's not ghosts," John said. He gave another laugh, this one full of relief. "It's the pipes."

Understanding dawned on Scott's face and John saw the unease drain away from his brother. John too felt lighter, not having to worry if their house was haunted or not.

"I'm going to make dinner," Scott said, "before werewolves start invading the back yard."

He headed down the stairs and Virgil followed. John watched them go before returning to his room. For once, he ignored his homework and crossed to his window, opening it and leaning out. His gaze turned towards the stars, but they were obscured by a layer of cloud.

He was relieved, he couldn't deny it. But part of him felt saddened. Deep down, he had hoped it was a sign and that his mother was telling him she was still with him. Scott was right; she would never scare him. But believing, even for a second, that she was still here had bolstered John in a way he couldn't explain.

"Guess you've really gone," he muttered. As he looked up, a cloud shifted, revealing one star shining through the darkness. John smiled, warmth flooding him from head to toe.

"Or not."

He turned from the window and crossed his room. He hesitated at his desk, intending to get back to his essay. But then he heard Virgil laughing from downstairs and decided that homework could wait. Right now, he wanted to be with his family.

If there was one thing he had learnt over the last few months, it was that he was only alone if he chose to be. And tonight, even if just for a few hours, he chose not to be.


End file.
